Elvis Was a Goa'uld
by Romula
Summary: Daniel and Jack have a talk. Sequel to "The Only Thing Better Than Jell-O," SamJack.


Elvis Was a Goa'uld   
by Romula

Rating: PG   
Spoilers: Sequel to "The Only Thing Better Than Jell-O."   
Disclaimer: They aren't mine. Oh, but that they were . . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey Daniel." Jack O'Neill leaned nonchalantly against the doorframe of Daniel Jackson's office.

"Hey, Jack. Why so happy?" Not that Jack wasn't often happy, but he didn't make a habit of hanging around Daniel's office grinning. And — Daniel frowned. "I know this is probably a stupid question, but . . . why is your tongue blue?" 

Jack's grin, if possible, got bigger. "Jell-O." 

"Jell-O." 

"Yeah." 

It seemed no further information would be forthcoming, so Daniel would have to dig for it. Where to start . . . well, with Jell-O, obviously. Jack was fond of Jell-O. Inordinately so. But he tended to favor red Jell-O, blue was more Sam's thing . . . _Ah_. 

"Sam?" 

Jack stuck his hands in his pockets. "Yeah." 

Daniel fought the urge to laugh, simply nodding instead. So. Jack had been eating Jell-O with Sam. Heh. But Jack was no longer with Sam, and that raised an important question. 

"Not that it's not nice to see you, Jack, but why are you here?" 

"Just wanted to see what you were up to, Space Monkey. We never talk anymore." 

"Uh-huh. Because you've always shown such an interest in what I do." 

"Ouch, Daniel. I care." 

"Since when?" 

Jack looked at his watch. "Since 1900 hours. And twelve seconds." 

Daniel blinked at him. "O-kay . . . Who are you and what have you done with Colonel O'Neill?" 

"Oh, come on Daniel. Really, what are you working on?" Jack moved closer to the desk and picked up a stapled sheaf of paper. "This looks interesting. What is it?" He flipped through the pages. 

Daniel hesitated before deciding that Jack sounded serious. "Actually it's a draft of my latest paper. Remember the abandoned city we found on P3X-981, that I said reminded me of something? Well I found out what. They're just like Troy. I compared the aerial imaging from the UAV to the plans of the ruins that Schliemann found in 1873, and the layouts are an exact match. And they _pre-date_ the oldest ruins at the Troy site. But what's even more fascinating is that the architecture doesn't look like anything that's ever been uncovered at Troy or anywhere in the area, in fact the structural design looks a lot like —" It looked a lot like Jack wasn't listening. "— It was built by a group of Elvis fanatics. The murals on the walls depicted people dressed in costumes covered in stones of some sort. My research indicates that Elvis was the assumed name of a minor Goa'uld underlord, and that he returned to Earth during the last century with the intent of taking control of the planet. He gathered quite a following before he died. So, Jack, how was your date with Sam?" 

Jack glanced up from the papers with a bemused smile. "Do you think Jell-O counts as a date?" 

Daniel privately held the opinion that anything Jack and Sam did together without anyone else counted as a date, even it they didn't know it, but he said nothing. Jack picked up a pottery fragment that was currently serving duty as a paperweight. 

"It's just, you know. It can't be." 

"Because of the regs." 

Jack put the fragment down and picked up a staple remover. "Yeah." He frowned and fiddled with the staples in Daniel's paper. 

"Yeah." 

It wasn't exactly a new topic, but it wasn't one they had discussed extensively. There just wasn't any point. The regulations were clear on the point: Jack and Sam could not have a relationship while he was her commanding officer. And they weren't willing to change the situation; they would not sacrifice the team for their personal feelings. So they were left with stolen looks, painfully platonic touches, and, when missions went so far south they could be deemed Antarctic, softly spoken words of endearment that were never spoken of later. At times like that the tension was so palpable that it was hard to be around them. The worst part was that Daniel couldn't do anything for them. No one could. He sighed. 

"Listen, Jack —" 

"I can't do this anymore." 

Daniel raised an eyebrow. "You mean pulling out my staples, right? That's good, because if you pull out that last one, the sheets will all fall apart, and then I'll have to get Sam to make you put them back in order." 

His frown deepened. "That's not what I mean, Daniel, and you know it." 

"Yeah." 

"Yeah." 

"Ah, look, I know this probably isn't going to help but, you love her, right?" 

"Of course I do," Jack snapped. "I shouldn't. But I do." 

"Well then, the only thing I can say is, screw the regs." 

Jack looked up sharply. "Screw the regs?" 

"Screw the regs," Daniel repeated firmly. 

Jack almost — almost — smiled. "If it were just my career, Daniel, I would. But it isn't, Carter's is on the line here, too. She's a _good_ officer; I won't put her career in jeopardy for something like this. It's wrong." 

"Loving someone is never wrong, Jack." 

"Damn it, Daniel! It is when it's a subordinate officer! This can't go anywhere, we're just dancing around each other and one of us is going to crack!" He took a deep breath. "I think it's going to be me." 

That sounded bad. Daniel pursed his lips. "You need to talk to her." 

"I can't talk to her." 

"You need to. You can't leave her out of this, not when she's so deeply involved already. It wouldn't be fair to either of you. And she'd never forgive you." 

"She won't forgive me anyway." The last staple was violently wrenched from its corner of the paper. 

"You should go talk to her." 

"Yeah." Jack stared at the paper he was holding. "By the way, Daniel, you'll never get to publish this if you keep in that stuff about Elvis." He placed the paper carefully on the desk and left. Daniel sat in silence for a full minute before the pile fell to the floor. He didn't bother picking it up. 

FIN


End file.
